Opium Dreams
by nuit1962
Summary: A short story which originated as a Challenge on Orlando Love. This was intended to fill in a gap at the end of the film, how Fred Abberline came to use those pennies


Opium Dreams

Fred Abberline stood at the back of the crowd that lined the streets of Whitehall, the remnants of a cigarette burning the skin of his lips as he took a last drag. It was hardly more than paper now, but the nicotine at least kept him awake. What he had been trying to do was to cross the street and take the great grey steps into the Police Headquarters at New Scotland Yard on account of a message that the Commissioner wanted him. A new case apparently, and he would put money, if in fact he had any, on it being the filthiest, most unsolvable and politically dangerous pile of shit they could find him, clearly his silver spoon had been misplaced somewhere, that or else his membership of the masons had been turned down. Again. He allowed himself a small smile; it was enough to give them kittens even thinking of riff raff like him in a leather apron. What however he was doing, was standing there like a nob waiting for blokes in tartan skirts to parade past making enough noise to wake the dead. Mind you The Palace was some way off, so they had their work cut out.

"Inspector"

"Godley!" Abberline's brows pulled together as he looked at his long time associate and Sergeant, he smiled affectionately "Come to watch the Parade? Or have you been demoted to crowd control after our last fiasco?"

A softened Glasgow accent replied "Very funny Sir, but a little bird at the Yard, or should that be a bird IN the yard? Anyhow, he tells me that we are to be working together again, though working in your case requires a certain stretch of the imagination I hear over the last few months"

Long fingers fumbled for another brown paper and Abberline let his eyes sweep over the crowds, though their focus was less sharp "It is worse this time Godley. If such a thing was possible. Mary is alive and yet I can't go to her, not unless I want them to find out. I have seen her, in my visions as you call them, back in Ireland, her and little Alice by a stream, laughing. And I can't go to her"

Godley pulled a face "And you think that smoking that stuff helps? Is that what you are telling me Inspector?"

The answer was lost as Abberline stepped forward, at last the sound of bagpipes was retreating towards Victoria Embankment and the road now empty to cross. His jacket flapped open as he walked, long lines of buttons waistcoat, shirt, pants, lines of order that reflected quite the opposite of what he was. The white starch collar rubbed his neck already, it had only been an hour since he dressed; and he pulled at it as he entered the heavy wooden doors, Godley panting behind him.

"We have an appointment with the Commissioner"

"You are late Inspector. I will have to see if he is still available"

"Why don't you do that, and while you are at it ask the Queen's fucking guards if they wouldn't mind marching at a more convenient time… Now I am late and you will make me later. You want be to explain that one to him when I finally get into his office?" A slow shake of the head was his answer and Abberline looked over his shoulder to Godley, "I suppose that means we should go right up" He was feeling better now, the blur in his head lifting with a few sharp exchanges and he smiled at Godley's curse of 'you will get us banged up one of these days mark my words'.

"Come!" The room was large enough to fit a family of twenty in comfortably

"Expecting a whole platoon of us Sir?"

"I don't appreciate sarcasm Abberline! Now take a seat, will you take tea?" The Commissioner lifted a delicately painted pot- a stream of perfectly perfumed Assam joined the splash of milk in the thin porcelain cup

"I am sorry Sir, I meant nothing by it, but no, it is a little late in the day for tea" Abberline winced, maybe he should use a blunter instrument than his tongue and he pulled on the cloth at knees of his pants to sit down, no use in wearing them thin too quickly, but his good humour was seeping away as cold eyes looked straight back at him. Godley cleared his throat, even a man who had the intuition of a bullfrog could feel it.

"You have an assignment for me I believe Sir"

"I do indeed…Inspector- do you know what this is?" From a dark brown leather case thin fingers picked up a corner of a piece of paper, singed and burnt but with parts of words visible. He didn't need to look at it, he would know it anywhere, he had carried Mary Kelly's letter with him for days in the pocket of his jacket, her plea for him to join her in Ireland and the detail,s as far as you could in a place with just tracks, of where that white house stood on the cliff top. He had touched it, felt it against his face, breathed it in. Breathed what was left of her in London. That was before he had burned it, or so he thought. His blood ran cold as ice through his head, thumping against his temples

"We have a little international detective work for you Abberline. Seems a key _witness_ in a case disappeared and we want her back. The brethren want her back very much alive, it seems that we have some unfinished business and we have decided that you are the man for the job, since you evidently had a connection with the… how shall I put it delicately so as not to offend you? Whore- yes that was it. This letter tells us that you know where she is, if not her location and we fully expect your co operation. Godley you will go with him- to curb his unfortunate excesses"

Abberline stared back, every muscle in his body straining to stand and Godley might even been ready to stop him this once "Why would I say yes to that?"

"Well Inspector I am very much afraid that unless you do you will have disobeyed a direct order, something which we have come to expect from you but in this case will be judged as treason, you can say goodbye to your job, your pension, your police quarters, oh and your life maybe. Terrible accidents do happen, Inspector in these dark streets"

"Commissioner! I must protest…" Godley was speechless as a Scot could be

"Leave it mate- there is no need to get yourself tied up in this"

They didn't speak on the way out, a pace fast across Victoria Bridge and into the narrow streets where he was comfortable, where he could talk his way into anywhere and drink until he couldn't stand. "Go home Godley"

"But Sir!" Ignoring pleas Abberline walked faster, turning sharp corners and losing himself in the thump of his feet on the cobbles until Godley cursed and threw in the towel. It was light yet, usually he held off until late evening, but there was nothing to do, nothing that could take his mind from the inevitable conclusion of the day. The opium house was thick with smoke, a perpetual twilight of swirling scented fog and Abberline walked a familiar red carpet to the long couch that might as well have his name on it. A familiar face was at his side in an instant

"Good afternoon Chan, double this time"

Concerned eyes frowned "you have much already Inspector"

"It isn't enough- never quite enough"

A nod and the man rolled his fingers around the soft dark resin, warming it, softening and moulding it to the shape of the pipe. The flame sent curls of smoke through the bamboo pipe and into his mouth, deep full breaths dragged it into down into his lungs with a rush that almost had him fall back into red cushions. He clenched the muscles in his eyes and sucked again, letting it seep through the walls of every cell, changing the very constitution of his blood, just wisps escaping through those perfect rosebud lips as he swayed, eyes rolling now "More.."

"My friend..."

"More… I know what I am doing Chan" A thin flame licked around dark brown with a sizzle, he could hardly keep himself up now, leaning over the side of the couch to let the dragon breathe deadening spectral fire though his body. Heavy lidded he rolled back, smoke still seeping in and out of his mouth and he closed his eyes to see, corners of green and rushes of blue sea, auburn hair and white cream breasts. Godley almost got there in time.

But not quite.


End file.
